Inhumanity
by Burning 'Til There's Dark Blue
Summary: He believed in science, logic, what he knew was true. She believed in the supernatural, what couldn't be proven. Somehow, she would prove to him that it was real, no matter what it took. Zack was in for the strangest year of his life. HIATUS
1. Integer Vitae Scelerisque Purus

**A/N: **This story is the result of a million strange stories between me and my brother, Bruce, the dozens of strange events that happen to me, my friend Hemaghini's stories about her times in the mental hospital, and my ability to be completely logical even though I believe very strongly in the supernatural. So here, at long last, is Zack's side of my other story, Life Support. You may want to read that to understand. His part of the story starts at chapter 8.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Bones or any music except for my own (Juniper Volt).

I was listening to _Breathing In A New Mentality _by Underoath.

*~*~*

**Chapter 1: **_Integer Vitae Scelerisque Purus_

*~*~*

_January 1, 2012_

_McKinley Psychiatric Hospital_

_Washington, DC_

He woke up at 3:22 A.M. according to the clock on the wall outside his room. The first thought in his mind was not a question of why he was waking up so early, or that it was a new year, but that the white walls surrounding him were extremely dull.

The second after that thought, his mind started racing, going through a million thoughts at once, regarding all his memories of the previous 2 days, his dream during the night, and then switched to Algebra – basic equations to make sure he still understood – mentally reciting the bones in the human body, and considering briefly something he had been told the previous day regarding a field of psychology known as parapsychology, and his mind instantly went to overanalyzing the word's roots, another problem with being half asleep.

_Based off of the Greek words para, meaning alongside, psych__ē, meaning mind, and logos, meaning word, thought, principle, and speech._

Parapsychology dealt with the paranormal, things not explained by normal psychology and science; telekinesis, precognition, clairvoyance, psychokinesis, reincarnations, out-of-body experiences, and hauntings, among others.

The girl who had explained this to him was institutionalized for severe depression, which had led her to try and kill herself and several others. But her belief in the paranormal was the only thing that seemed even remotely sane, as ironic as it was.

Yet he was one of the, for the most part, relatively sane people trapped here.

His thoughts returned slowly to normal.

3:47 A.M., he fell asleep again.

*~*~*

_Grand Hyatt Hotel_

_Washington, DC_

She was alone and everything was quiet, just as she liked it.

The hotel room was empty; her children were with her sister.

She didn't really understand her logic in getting a hotel room when she never slept.

As she looked around the dimly lit room, on the 12th story of the hotel, she couldn't help but be reminded of the music video for _Everybody's Fool _by Evanescence, a song she knew by heart and was very tempted to start singing, but didn't because she knew that the people in nearby rooms would not appreciate her bursting out singing at the top of her lungs.

Humming quietly, she turned on a lamp, casting an eerie orange glow over at least part of the room and shadows on the rest, then stood and walked to the floor-length mirror on the wall, staring at her figure.

She was skinny, currently 110 pounds, and 5'6". She knew most women would kill to have a figure like hers, but the fact that any curves she had were nearly nonexistent – she had no waist, a size 00 and she didn't even know how, and her chest was only existent due to having children so young, and because she was _very _pregnant – would probably kill any woman's desire for her body. In the dim light, she could see just how pale she was. Rarely going anywhere during the day, and tending to be very nocturnal, she had almost no pigment in her skin aside from several freckles scattered across her arms and face. Her hair, once a strange mixture of red and dark brown, had been dyed a dark crimson, with streaks of blue, purple, and brighter red – _I look like Dilana, _she thought, _only a ridiculously skinny version. _In truth, she looked somewhat like Lacey Mosley and Dilana, if such a combination was possible.

She smiled, biting her lip, a nervous habit she had developed over the years that led her lip to constantly be blistered, if not bleeding.

A wave of foreboding hit her and she closed her eyes, accepting the plague of visions that had affected her since she was 5 years old. Broken glass, squealing tires, screams, sirens, hospital rooms, pain.

The scary part was that they always came true.

*~*~*

He was sitting in the cafeteria late that afternoon, eating some sort of unidentifiable mush that was passed off as food, when they came up to him. The nurses, the security guards, and the FBI agent who had put him in here in the first place, all suddenly surrounding him…

Smiling?

He looked at them, confused, unsure of what to say.

"Put your shoes on." One of the nurses said. He frowned; he didn't even have shoes. He had been wearing baggy, gray sweats since he got institutionalized, not to mention the 55-degree temperature, freezing water, and the lone pair of socks he was given each day.

"I don't have shoes." He finally stated. "Why are you here?"

"You're free to go."

He blinked, trying to figure out the backwards logic in what they had just said. "How am I free? I've been here for 4 years."

"Logic got you in here; even more logic is getting you out." The aforementioned FBI agent stated. That was when he noticed the blood on the lapels of the agent's shirt.

"I don't understand."

"Look, just get whatever you need, and then we're leaving. There are people waiting for us outside, and there are gonna be reporters here any minute. Now go get your things. I have to sign a bunch of papers."

He obliged, following one of the nurses back to his room.

*~*~*

She sat on the foot of the bed, watching the scratchy news reports on the old TV. There was nothing on but news and CSI, and with her current mentality she didn't think that watching dead people and hot CSI techs would be a good idea. So she had resorted to the news, where the platinum blonde, blue eyed reporter who had spent way too much of her limited amount of money on plastic surgery was talking in a "let's-pretend-to-care" tone that made her sick.

There had been a shooting. At the museum.

She laughed once she realized why. A criminal who had been undercover for 6 years, who had played everyone around her like a cheap piano, blackmailed people into doing her dirty work for her, threatened others with death, and who put an innocent man in a mental hospital, shot by an FBI agent, a psychologist, and her own _sister._

Smiling, she cracked her knuckles, annoyed at the freezing air that had leaked into her room somehow and which had apparently frozen the synovial fluid in her joints.

She knew that this would happen, and that was what made her smile, despite the pain she knew would come soon enough.

"Good job." She muttered quietly. Her sister was now on the screen, speaking with an air of maturity that she rarely ever used. So formal.

The doors on the screen opened and she simply had to laugh at the reporters.

*~*~*

He was led out by the FBI agent, who had one hand on his arm to prevent him from running away. He had his suitcase in one hand; filled with the few belongings the aides hadn't stolen from him when he first arrived.

The light was ridiculously bright – he had forgotten, in the dim light of the institution, just how bright the sunlight could be. His hair fell in his eyes as he noticed the two people standing in front of him protectively – a strawberry blonde who couldn't be more than 18, and his psychologist.

He heard the questions, heard the shouting, and shut his eyes to prevent the sensory overload he knew would happen soon, drowning out the voices.

The blonde was shouting at the reporters to move, and was growing increasingly frustrated. He heard the rustle that could only be from a purse, and wondered what was happening.

A gunshot silenced the reporters and he had to smile at the sudden lack of noise. He opened his eyes, still squinting in the sunlight and blinking to avoid retinal damage. He walked with the small group through the sea of voices and people, trying to ignore them all.

The door was opened to the van and he reluctantly got in, placing his suitcase on the middle of the backseat, then buckled his seatbelt as his mind raced through everything that could happen if he was in this car.

The others got in and he looked out the window at the trees and grass he rarely ever saw, as they sped away.

"That was extremely disturbing." He said, talking both about the release and the reporters. He fell silent again as he tried to get used to the light, trying to think of what could have possibly gotten released as he stared down at his hands. He was still wearing the same black leather gloves that he had worn for years, still subconsciously afraid of what people would think of the scars; visual memories of what the explosion had done to him. And then, he finally put all the pieces of the puzzle together.

"So you discovered Naomi's involvement." He whispered, unsure of what else to say.

"She tried to shoot me." The blonde in the front seat stated, as if it justified everything.

He considered what to say, almost scared that it would get him killed.

"It wasn't my original plan to protect her for so long. When she came to me telling me what she had done, I was going to tell Agent Booth." He inhaled, trying to calm himself, fighting his subconscious. "But she threatened to kill me if I didn't take the blame for her."

"And you believed her." His psychologist said.

"Naomi is deceptively strong." He explained, then realized that if they were here…

"She's dead." The blonde said. "I shot her in the chest. Agent Booth and Lance shot her too but I was the one who fired my gun first."

He nodded, understanding.

"She had a skeleton in her bedroom. It's at the Jeffersonian right now." The agent added calmly.

He was fighting his emotions, trying to figure out what to say.

"Does anyone else know what we did? Or is it just us?" the blonde was obviously not good at staying quiet. He realized that he still didn't know her name, but he had accepted long ago that names didn't matter.

"Just think of it as a late Christmas present to everyone." The psychologist said.

He was still fighting tears, trying to figure out why he even wanted to cry so much in the first place.

*~*~*

She was overcome by a fit of laughter at the sound of the gunshot on TV. Only her sister would use a gun to get rid of the reporters. And it worked, surprisingly enough.

She had always known her sister was a strange one.

Her laughter caused her to fall off the bed, hitting the nightstand as she did. Yelping in pain, she stood up, turning around to see the cut on her lower back; there was a surprising amount of blood.

Oh well. Scars were just tattoos, in a way.

Her cell phone rang and she answered instantly.

"This is Sarah Clemenza; how may I help you?"

*~*~*

_Jeffersonian Institution_

_Washington, DC_

He shouldn't have taken so long to recognize the building they pulled up to. He had worked at the place for years; it was his second home.

The people around him – Booth, Sweets, Sammy – were all standing in front of him, shielding him from view, in a way. He stared at his feet, counting the steps he took. Finally, they stopped.

"Oh. My. God." He recognized the voice; it was that of the artist who had always taken care of him. "What did you people do?"

He felt obliged to explain. "Sammy's incredibly intelligent for someone her age. She was able to figure out that Naomi was the real apprentice and that I was the one who took the blame. Judging by the amount of reporters who kept asking us questions, this is going to be on the news later today."

He heard the sound of running footsteps, and then a bone-crushing hug from half a dozen people who were all trying to talk at once.

"Welcome home, Zack."

He looked around nervously as he realized all that he would have to do now. If they didn't strip him of his doctorates, he would have to find a job. He was going to have to get new security clearance, find somewhere to live, dozens of things he would rather not do.

"My work here is done." The blonde's now-familiar voice made its way to him, and he heard the sound of two sets of footsteps walking away.

Everyone was surrounding him, as if he had never left.

For the first time in 4 years, he smiled.

*~*~*

**A/N: **Done with the first chapter! Good god, that took too much research. 5 points for whoever can guess what the chapter's name means – here's a hint; it's Latin. In other news, Chrysler is suing my high school (more info on my profile), it's 41 degrees where I live in Florida, I was nearly in a car crash on Tuesday, and somehow I cut my back and I don't know how and it's painful.

Review! Please? I'll give you a virtual cookie!


	2. Prima Facie

**A/N: **It's freezing and I love the song I'm listening to right now. Anyway, this chapter is rated for excessive cursing, mostly the f-bomb, which is really fun to write, by the way, because I almost never talk that way in real life unless I'm really, _really _pissed. So it's fun…

I was listening to _Say When _by The Fray…

*~*~*

**Chapter 2: **_Prima Facie_

*~*~*

_3 Weeks Later…_

_Jeffersonian Institution_

_Washington DC_

"So how're you liking the free world?" Hodgins asked happily, walking onto the forensics platform, causing Zack to look up from the skeleton he was examining. It was taking a ridiculously long time to get him security clearance again, but he finally had enough to start assisting Brennan with identifying remains from Limbo – _no, it's Modular Skeleton Storage, _he corrected himself – while Booth and Brennan spent their time trying to get him his regular job back.

"Since the world wasn't under the reign of a dictator while I was in the mental asylum, I'm assuming you're talking about my release." Zack said, not looking up from the femur he was examining closely. "In which case, I am enjoying my freedom very much." He shifted his focus back to the femur, which he had just realized had very unusual marks on it, such as those one would receive from an attack from a wild animal, but none that he had ever seen before.

"Yeah…what are you doing?"

Zack had pulled out a bottle filled with red food dye and water, and was spraying it on the bone.

"I'm using the dye to see any microfractures indiscernible to the human eye under normal conditions."

"Of course you are."

"This bone appears to have been clawed by a wild animal."

"Very specific."

"My guess is that the victim was attacked by a jaguar or mountain lion."

"We're in DC. There are no mountain lions or jaguars here."

"Perhaps he was in a zoo?" Zack was completely ignoring Hodgins as he spoke with himself.

"You aren't listening, are you?"

"Though judging from the depth of the wounds and the presence of mulch, the as-of-yet unidentified creature was in the wild when he attacked our victim."

"Okay. I'll come back when you're in the real world again." Hodgins turned and walked away, shaking his head in disbelief and leaving Zack with his bones.

*~*~*

_Suburban Hospital_

_Bethesda, Maryland_

Sarah opened her eyes to bright light and the incessant yet familiar sound of a heart monitor. Her first thought wasn't how she had ended up in the hospital, or where her kids were, but why her entire body hurt so badly if she was doped up on morphine.

She managed to focus her eyes on one of the ceiling tiles, and in a habit she'd had since childhood, started counting the tiles in an effort to calm herself down from the panic attack she knew she was going to have if she didn't do something to occupy her mind.

She hated hospitals.

After counting the tiles – 294 – she finally decided that she should leave. But no nurse had come in yet, so she couldn't bribe him or her to release her.

It was then she was aware that along with a pain there was a strange emptiness in her stomach and she cursed once she realized why.

She closed her eyes tightly, waiting for the foreboding images to assault her mind, and in a strange twist of fate, she managed to get clear images for once.

_A cemetery, with two tiny caskets and two graves…a cold, steel lab…a childlike man with brown hair and gloves, smiling at her…a skull on a table _(Caucasoid male, she noted) _with half a dozen people surrounding it…a creature that was almost human…_

Her eyes flew open and she sat up, intent on escaping the dark place that was the brightly lit hospital. Taking out her IV carefully and removing the various wires all over her body, she swung her feet over the bed, gave herself a once-over, and bit her lip in fear when she realized that sometime during her unconscious spell she had given birth.

_It was a car crash. The chances of survival for anyone that young…_

She ignored the thought as several nurses suddenly rushed in.

"You have to stay here, ma'am." One of them, a burly man with no hair who was presumably the doctor, told her calmly.

She considered this for a second. "No."

"You were just in a car crash."

"I figured as much. What time is it?"

"4:00 p.m."

"Then I'm going to leave."

"Ma'am-"

"This is false imprisonment. I am going to walk right out of here. Where are my clothes and my kids?"

"Your clothes are in the dresser, but ma'am – your daughter and your baby didn't survive the crash."

Her mind went blank as she tried to comprehend this. "What about my son?"

"He sustained a broken radius and a few cuts and bruises, but other than that he's fine."

She glared at the doctor with more hatred than she knew she had. "I'm walking out of here."

"Ma'am-"

"No. I'm leaving."

*~*~*

"We have to go."

Zack suddenly found himself being dragged away from the skeleton by Hodgins and Angela, both who were visibly agitated.

"Where are we going?"

"Something about a family emergency and Sweets and Bethesda." Angela explained.

"What does the Navy have to do with anything?"

"Bethesda as in the _city_."

"Why am I being kidnapped?"

"You aren't being kidnapped. We may require anthropological expertise." Hodgins stated as the 3 walked out of the Institution and into the parking garage.

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"No." Hodgins replied, intentionally sarcastic. The three people got into the PT Cruiser – Zack rather reluctantly, as he was still convinced that he was being kidnapped.

"Just ignore him. We need to go there because it's Sweets, and, well, he's kind of an idiot." Angela turned around from the passenger seat to speak with Zack, who as usual was in the backseat.

"But his IQ is-"

"When it comes to things like this, he's an idiot."

*~*~*

"You aren't going to make me stay here. I refuse."

"Ma'am-"

"I will hire a team of lawyers to avoid staying here if necessary."

"Ma'am, we need to keep you here. You have a concussion, and your mental state-"

"What about my mental state? This is my default personality. Now fuck off and let me leave."

"Profanity is not going to solve anything."

"In that case, fuck you."

"Ma'am-"

"Stop calling me that! My name is _Sarah, _got it? Sarah Gabrielle Clemenza. Not ma'am. Now fuck off and let me leave."

"Ma'am-"

"You know what? FUCK YOU!" Sarah shouted, flipping the doctor off.

She hated hospitals.

*~*~*

Zack was zoned out.

That was the least of it. Ever since he had arrived and realized that there was no immediate threat to any of his friend's lives, he had been sitting in his chair, focusing on the stitches on the sleeves of his sweater and counting them.

He wasn't listening to anything until Sweets finally mentioned the girl's name, and then that she was in a band he hadn't heard since college, Juniper Volt.

He snapped out of his reverie. "She's in Juniper Volt?"

He was aware of the various people now staring at him, but decided it was best to ignore them.

"Zack. How do you know about them? _You, _of all people." Hodgins asked.

Zack wasn't focused on this but he decided to answer the question anyway.

"I heard one of their songs when I was 19. They were very popular at my school, and I enjoyed the music." The song he had first heard began playing in his head, and it was hard to focus on the conversation all of a sudden.

"Yeah. Sarah was 15 when they released her first album. She's the lead singer. What song did you hear?" Sweets asked. Zack didn't like all the questions; he had to deal with them enough before, at the asylum.

"I believe it was called _Wordplay, _but I'm not sure. It's a very good song." The lyrics started playing in his head as he spoke; _Who are you gonna trust as you fall from the sky?_

"That song was recorded a capella. There's nothing else on the entire song." Sweets stated, confused. Zack raised an eyebrow as he tried to figure out why that mattered, the lyrics still playing in his head; _Who are you gonna talk to when you have nothing to say?_

"I'm aware of that." _Who are you gonna listen to when you can't hear a sound?_

"Sarah was the only one singing." _Who are you gonna send those letters to when you don't know a soul?_

"There was an accompanied version released later." _What do you do when you don't know the difference between wrong and right?_

"She did that with her computer." _What do you do when what you say doesn't make any sense at all?_

"Which is very impressive, considering it was 2003. Technology wasn't as advanced then as in, say, 2009." _Trying to choose between destiny and life._

"It was edited using GarageBand." _What's left to say about this wordplay?_

"I don't know what that is." _Who are you going to turn to when everyone looks away?_

"A computer program on most iMacs." _Who are you going to trust when all you hear is lies?_

"Ah." _Who are you going to hear when you don't know the words?_

"Anyway, I don't know where Sammy went. She was yelling at the nurses last time I saw her." _Who are you going to write the songs for when all you need is a sound?_

"What do you mean, yelling?" _What do you do when you don't know the difference between dark and light?_

"Death threats; hara kiri, chainsaw, sledgehammer, motorcycle accident, stuff like that." _What do you do when what you say isn't what they want to hear?_

"But you said that her sister wasn't severely injured." _Trying to choose between destiny and life._

"She lost her daughter, Zack. _And _her unborn child. Emotionally, she's a wreck." _What's left to say?_

"Aren't you going to talk to her?" _About this wordplay?_

"I don't know her that well." _Wordplay…_

"But you're a psychologist." _What's left to say?_

"I know." _About this wordplay?_

The song in his head ended and he felt his mind shift back to full focus. "So you should talk to her."

"I don't want to be murdered."

"Why would you be murdered?"

"Sammy, her psychotic sister, death threats. All stuff I'd rather not deal with."

"But you're a _psychologist. _You talk to psychotic people every day."

"You aren't going to stop this, are you?"

"No."

"Fine." Sweets left, and Zack sat down, going back to his reverie.

*~*~*

Sarah was almost free. Her son, Andrew, was in the room, and all she had to do was put on her shoes.

There was a knock on the door and before she could answer, her sister's boyfriend walked in.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Sweets. I'm a psychologist."

"I know."

"I wanted to know if you wanted to discuss the events at all."

"Hell no."

Sweets paused. "Are you sure?"

"What are you, 12?"

"I'm 26."

"Sure you are." Sarah gave up on putting on her shoes. "Fuck this." She picked her shoes up and turned to face Sweets. "Now, what should I talk about?"

"Well, You just lost a child. For most people that's a traumatic experience."

"You're damn right it's a traumatic fucking experience."

Andrew was snickering. Sarah was focusing her anger on the psychologist in front of her.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, coming in here and trying to talk about all this emotional shit and whatever the hell you can come up with that seems even remotely fucking psychological." She was trying so hard to ignore the headache that was coming from the onslaught of visions that she knew would happen if she closed her eyes, and she was angrier than she thought possible.

"Well, I-"

She didn't let him answer. Picking up her shoe – a steel-toed boot – she threw it at his head, effectively sending him out of the room. Andrew laughed, chasing after the shrink, and Sarah sat down, pulling on her shoes.

"Stupid psychologists."

*~*~*

All he heard was Andrew and Sammy talking about what the girl, Sarah, had just done, but he was in his own little world, and didn't really want to leave.

The door opened and he looked up briefly – Sweets – before going back to counting the stitches on his shirt. He zoned out for most of the conversation, until Sammy said "You know Juniper Volt's a punk rock band, right?"

"I know." He replied, fascinated by how uneven machine stitches could be.

"And you know what the scene style is?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

"You'll find out soon."

The door swung open and he looked up, and was instantly struck speechless.

The girl in front of him was short, maybe 5'6" at the most, with a round face and high cheekbones. Her hair was messy, long, wavy, and unnaturally colored – a dark crimson with bright blue, purple, and red streaks. She was wearing silver eyeliner and blue eyeshadow that accentuated wide, brilliantly blue-silver eyes. She was wearing acid washed, ripped neon blue jeans with fishnets underneath, a red and white striped tube top, and a neon yellow, faux leather, half-sleeve jacket, and steel-toed construction boots. There were tattoos and scars visible on her arms, intertwined in a strange collage.

He honestly didn't know what to say.

"Zack?" He was aware that Hodgins was waving his hand in front of him, but he was staring at the girl who had written some of the most meaningful songs he had heard during college, and who was now standing in front of him.

"You're the lead singer of Juniper Volt." _Stating the facts. Completely illogical at this moment._

The girl raised a pierced eyebrow, looking at him in confusion, when realization flew across her features. She laughed, the sound resonating around the room.

"I know." Her voice matched her singing – high, slightly gravelly, but pure.

"I have no idea what else I'm supposed to say."

"I could tell." The brunette spun around to speak with her sister, and his thoughts were racing as he tried to figure out what to say.

"Let's go home, Shorty." He finally snapped back into focus as the brunette put her arm around her son's shoulders and walked out of the waiting room.

"She was extremely attractive." He stated, unable to think of anything else to say.

Hodgins slapped Zack on the back of the head for no reason that he could discern as Sammy fell to the ground, laughing hysterically.

"Dude, she's my _sister! _And she just got divorced!" Sammy said, in fits of hysterics.

"I don't understand. What did I say?"

"She means that it would be really awkward if you dated her." Hodgins tried to explain.

"Why would it be awkward?" He honestly didn't know.

Everyone else just stared at him.

"Nobody's answering my questions."

*~*~*

_Cute, _she thought, walking away from the hospital.

*~*~*

**A/N: **Jalapenos. Pain. Gotta go.


	3. Esse Quam Videri

**A/N/Disclaimer: **It's sad that I'm starting to consider 58 degrees Fahrenheit warm after the freezing weather Florida's been having. Anyway, anything not pertaining to Bones is mine; Juniper Volt, any OCs, Zenith, and a couple other things that will pop up out of nowhere.

I was listening to _Ain't No Rest For The Wicked _by Cage The Elephant

*~*~*

**Chapter 3: **_Esse Quam Videri_

*~*~*

_Jeffersonian Institution_

_Washington, DC_

The skull was staring at him.

He knew it was irrational to think that the skull of a human who had been dead for several years, especially one that no longer had a brain or eyes was staring at him, but it seemed to be judging him for not being able to figure out how the person belonging to the skull had died. Or who the person was.

"Who are you?" He muttered, placing the skull down and getting onto his knees, leaning on the table to stare at the skull.

"Sarah Clemenza. I think we've established that."

He stood up, spinning around to look at the source of the voice. The strangely dressed rock singer was standing in front of the forensics platform, unable to get on the platform due to her lack of a security card.

"How did you get here?" He asked, looking from the girl to the skull.

"I asked my sister where you worked and I took the bus."

Zack couldn't think of what to say. "Why?"

"She told me about your case."

"But she doesn't know-"

"She told me that her boyfriend said that the case was a weird one."

"It's… not. It's just that the markings are extremely unusual." Zack finally managed to say, walking over to the edge of the platform and swiping his card so that the girl in front of him could walk on. "Put gloves on before you touch that!"

Sarah rolled her eyes before pulling on latex gloves and picking up the skull to look at it more closely.

"Caucasian male, right?"

"Yes."

"Mid to late 20s."

"Yes."

"But the incisors are shovel-shaped, which is an indicator that the victim was Mongoloid. Yet the skull clearly says otherwise."

"Yes."

"Mixed race, maybe? Half Hispanic, half white. I'm guessing he's from the Caribbean, most likely the island of Hispaniola, probably on the Dominican Republic side."

"Are you an anthropologist?" He finally asked.

"I dabble. I know things about any subject you can think of, mostly anthropology, psychology, forensics, and physics."

"But you're a musician."

"That's the third time you've pointed out who I am."

"Are you keeping track?"

"No. I just remember things like that."

Zack looked from the musician to the skull, trying to figure out what he needed to know about both, when Sarah spoke up.

"You need to look up Zenith."

"Who?"

"I think you'll find out who this man was if you look them up. Ask your conspiracy theorist friend. He'll know who they are." With that, she turned and, pulling off her gloves, walked away.

*~*~*

"Hodgins?" Zack walked into the entomologist's office, completely bewildered.

"Yeah?"

"Who or what is Zenith?"

Hodgins spun around in the chair to face Zack.

"They're a bunch hyper-religious zealots bent on the destruction of anything remotely against their beliefs, and are extremely anti-supernatural/paranormal. They are rumored to be the cause of the Salem witch trials in the 17th century and hundreds if not thousands of other disappearances. Why do you ask?"

"Sarah came in, looked at the victim, and said that I should look up Zenith if I wanted to find out who the victim was. She also said that he was probably Dominican but I don't know what that's supposed to mean."

Hodgins sighed.

"The Dominican branch of Zenith is the most well-known - even though practically _nobody _knows who they are – for the persecution of those they believe to be inhuman in some way."

"Inhuman? But our victim was-"

"Witches, vampires, werewolves, aliens, telepaths, clairvoyants; anyone with ties to the paranormal. They probably thought our victim was among that group."

"But he was human."

"Zenith doesn't differentiate between those with mental illnesses and those who aren't human."

"How do you know this?"

Hodgins didn't say anything; he turned to look through his microscope at whatever particulates he'd found.

Zack frowned, still not understanding. He turned and was about to walk away before Hodgins finally spoke.

"You should ask that chick out."

Zack spun around on his heels, confused.

"What?"

"Sammy's sister. You should ask her out."

"…Why?"

"Come up with your own reasons." Hodgins said.

Zack considered this, then turned and walked away, deciding that he'd figure out where he was going later.

*~*~*

When asked later, he would have had to say that he didn't understand the reasoning behind walking to Sweets' office in the freezing cold weather, but he did.

His reasoning was that Sarah Clemenza was the most confusing person he had ever met.

So, ignoring the nagging voice in his head telling him not to be an idiot, he opened the door to Sweets' office and started talking faster than humanly possible.

"Sarah just broke into the Jeffersonian and I don't know how and she identified the victim and everything and then she started talking about this thing called Zenith so I asked Hodgins about it and he didn't say anything except that I should ask her out but since she's your girlfriend's sister I didn't know what to do." Zack said the entire sentence in about 5 seconds, leaving him breathless.

"Um…"

Zack sighed, then turned and walked out of the room, having nothing else to say.

*~*~*

She was halfway home when she felt the familiar burning in the back of her mind. Reflexively, she closed her eyes and was plagued by the visions once more.

_An island nation…walking through the streets of Santo Domingo…speaking broken Spanish, bordering on Italian grammar…looking for someone who spoke English…someone finally speaking to her…alcohol-induced haze… running back to the dark hotel room… the tattoo…_

Her eyes flew open. She knew who the victim was.

*~*~*

**A/N: **It's a short chapter, I know. Anyway, my parents for reasons only they know are changing the amount of computer time I have each day, including the weekends, to only an hour, so updates on this, much to my chagrin, are going to be very irregular until I can prove to my parents that I'm not a drug-addicted failure, which they seem to think I am.

Review please!


	4. In Vino Veritas

**A/N: **So while I write, I'm listening to Eluveitie, trying to figure out my schedule for the new semester, and trying to fix my iPod. Long day.

I was listening to _Don't Trust Me _by 3OH!3…

*~*~*

**Chapter 4: **_In Vino Veritas_

*~*~*

_Jeffersonian Institution_

_Washington, DC_

This was officially one of the craziest things that Sarah had ever done, and she was proud to admit that.

She was currently walking as quietly as she could through the Jeffersonian parking garage, humming _Slanias Song _under her breath in an attempt to keep her calm.

Her outfit was not helping her be sneaky, however. She had decided to go to a club later, and was dressed in a bright yellow and white striped dress with short sleeves that hung off her shoulders, while the dress itself was slightly loose and only went down mid-thigh, neon pink fishnet tights, knee-high white faux leather boots, various multicolored bracelets, and a hieroglyph necklace. Her hair was finally back to a solid, uniform color, albeit an unnatural, crimson red, and was cut to just above her shoulders.

And she was trying to break into the Jeffersonian to kidnap a Dr. Zack Addy.

She wasn't really sure how she was going to do this. She could get by security guards without much trouble most of the time, but it was the getting onto the forensics platform that she was worried about.

Sighing, she walked into the building, where two security guards and a metal detector were standing. Somehow, she breezed past them without trouble, and walked straight to the forensics platform, where the unsuspecting anthropologist currently had his back turned.

She felt like a ninja. That was all there was to say.

She decided it would be a better idea not to walk up the stairs and wait for someone to let her through, so she walked to the railing, grabbed the lowest bar, and pulled herself up so that she was resting on the edge, several feet off the ground.

"Dr. Addy!" she shouted, hoping to get Zack's attention so that she wouldn't be risking fracturing her humerus by hanging off the edge of the platform the way she was doing.

Zack turned around, and she had to smile as his eyes widened in shock at seeing her hanging off the edge of the platform.

"Why are you hanging off the railing instead of waiting by the stairs?"

"Because this is faster. Help me up already, please!"

Zack raised an eyebrow, but regardless, he walked over to where the singer was hanging, grabbed her hands, and pulled her up onto the platform, which somehow led to her falling on top of him.

"Thank you."

"Can you please remove yourself from my chest? It's very difficult to breathe when there is a 90 pound human laying on top of you."

Sarah stood up, grabbing his hands to help him stand up.

"Why are you here?"

The redhead smiled. "To invite you to a club."

"I don't go to clubs." Zack replied. "I can't drive. And I have a very low tolerance of alcohol."

"I'll drive. We can call one of your friends to pick us up."

"Maybe…"

"The club is called Entropy, and it's run by my friends Lexi and Bruce. They'll let us in without any trouble. I'm considered a VIP, because my band performs there so much and because Bruce and Lexi are like siblings to me. Can you come?"

"I'm still not sure that this is a good idea."

Sarah smiled, then pulled a sharpie out of her purse and took his hand, then wrote something on it.

"That's my number. Call me once you've decided what to do."

Zack had no idea what he was supposed to say. The redhead suddenly looked over her shoulders to see the two security guards approaching.

"Crap. Are they coming to get me?"

"Well, considering that you broke all security protocols with your entrance, I would assume that you are the subject of their interests right now."

"Hide me!"

Zack stumbled as the redhead grabbed him and pushed him in front of her in an attempt to hide. The security guards were already on the platform, however, and had seen the redhead. They walked to either side of the girl and each grabbed one of her arms before half-dragging her off the platform.

Zack looked at the retreating figures in shock – Sarah was struggling to get away – then slightly nervous, walked back to the skeleton he had been examining, trying to figure out what to do.

The rational part of his mind told him that since Sarah was his psychologist's girlfriend's sister, he should probably ask permission from said psychologist.

He pulled off his gloves and walked off the platform, telling Cam as he passed her that he had to go see someone.

*~*~*

_J. Edgar Hoover F.B.I. Building_

_Washington, DC_

He was panicking as he walked towards the psychologist's office. It was justifiable, but he did not want to have a panic attack in the middle of the FBI building..

So he walked up to the door and knocked, then stood outside the door, waiting for an answer.

"Zack, stop standing outside my door and come in already!" Sweets shouted from inside. He opened the door and walked in, confused.

"How did you know it was me?" he asked, sitting down on the couch.

"Because, unlike most of my patients, you actually wait for me to tell you to come in instead of barging in here like some people." Sweets explained, taking a sip of coffee. Zack nodded.

"Sarah asked me out. Or at least I think she did." He said calmly. Sweets spat out his coffee, choking.

"She did _what?"_

"She broke into the lab, broke all security protocols and got onto the forensics platform, and before security dragged her away she managed to give me her cell phone number and asked me to go with a club to her tonight, and to call her once I had decided what to do." He explained, then continued. "I don't know what to do."

"I can't help you with this one."

"Why not?"

"Because this is my girlfriend's _sister _we're talking about."

"You say that as if there's some meaning to that fact that I'm supposed to know."

"…You don't see how you having any sort of relationship with Sarah would be _extremely_ awkward considering the circumstances?"

"No."

"I will explain this to you once more. And I really hope you'll understand. Sarah is my girlfriend's sister. As in my possible future sister-in-law. And if you dated her, that would make _you _my possible future brother-in-law."

"How is that awkward?"

"You know what? I don't think I can explain this to you. Go ask Angela or Hodgins and maybe they'll be able to explain what I mean."

He nodded, then stood up and walked out of the room, passing Sammy as he did. He nodded to acknowledge her presence, then stood in the hallway, trying to figure out what to do. Hodgins would laugh at him, Angela would squeal for a good 5 minutes and be babbling about something that he didn't understand, so that left Cam, Sammy, Brennan, Wendell, and Booth.

Cam would just tell him that he was at was work and that it wasn't a conversation she wanted to have. Sammy would be laughing hysterically and not be able to say anything. Brennan, while he trusted her judgment on most things, was just as bad as him when it came to social situations. He didn't know Wendell that well, so he couldn't ask him. That only left one person.

*~*~*

Sarah sat in the Jeffersonian parking garage, where the guards had unceremoniously abandoned her after dragging her out of the museum. She had decided to wait for a certain anthropologist to leave so that she could kidnap him and force him to go to Entropy with her – her grand plan included tackling him from behind, covering his mouth so that he couldn't scream, and putting him in the trunk of her car.

Though asking him nicely might suffice. Regardless, he was going to go to that club with her whether he wanted to or not.

She pulled her iPhone out of her purse, looking at the time. 16:58. Almost quitting time.

She looked up just as the familiar brunette walked past her, unaware of her presence. While she had originally planned to just walk up to him and ask him what he thought, her animal mentality took over and she started sprinting, then jumped on his back before she realized what she was doing. Damn mental shifts, making her tackle poor, innocent anthropologists.

Zack fell when she tackled him. Something she had learned was that she was freakishly strong when she was in her animal mentality. She quickly scrambled off of him, smiling.

"_Dia duit. __Conas atá tú__?__" _Sarah said, smiling happily.

"Are you speaking Gaelic?"

"_Is ea."_

"I'm sorry, Sarah, but I have absolutely no idea what you're saying."

"I know. I just didn't feel like speaking English."

"…Why?"

"It just seemed better to speak Gaelic just now. Don't question me. Anyway, are you going to the club?"

"Well, I was going to go tell Dr. Brennan that I was leaving for the night-"

"I'll take that as a yes. Come on!" Sarah grabbed Zack's wrist and dragged him to her car.

"But I don't have anything to wear!"

"I don't give a damn! Come on, I want to get to the club before there are people there!"

Zack found himself in the passenger seat of the car, holding onto the armrests for dear life as Sarah pulled out of her parking spot and flooring it, laughing insanely as she did so.

"PLEASE DON'T CRASH!" he managed to shout over the noise of the engine.

"I won't!" the redhead shouted as they nearly hit 2 other cars and the wall, yet somehow made it around them.

*~*~*

_Entropy Nightclub_

_Washington, DC_

"See? That wasn't so bad." Sarah said as the two walked to the front of the club.

"I can't feel my face." Zack stated calmly. Sarah laughed and walked up to the entrance, dragging the scientist by his wrist. The bouncer didn't look scary – he was as old as Zack, with dirty blonde hair and a very wide smile.

"Shorty!" he greeted the redhead as she walked up the stairs, dragging Zack. The two hugged quickly. "How's my little sis doing?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" she laughed. "I'm planning to get this kid wasted just to see what happens."

"He looks like a 15-year-old, sis."

"I know. He's older than he looks."

"I don't-"

"You thought I was in 6th grade when I first met you. I was a sophomore. My hair was neon pink when I met you and I had my tongue pierced."

"Not to mention you had just had Andrew."

"Exactly. So are you gonna let the kid in so that I can get him wasted?"

"I don't drink." Zack stated.

The two looked at him incredulously.

"You're going to get plastered, regardless." Sarah stated calmly, before turning to the bouncer. "Bruce, can I be the DJ tonight?"

The blonde – Bruce – smiled. "You know you can't, but I'll tell the DJ that you're here."

The redhead smiled. "Thanks!"

*~*~*

Zack sat at the bar, feeling completely lost. Sarah had forced him to sit in a seat, ordered a beer for him and a mojito for herself, the last of which earned her eye rolls until she pulled out a $20 bill and smiled sweetly, saying "please" with the typical good-girl look on her face.

That had been 3 hours ago. He hadn't yet finished his first beer, which had gone flat, and Sarah was at the very least buzzed; after her first 3 mojitos, she had started ordering margaritas and was now on the dance floor while Ukrainian dance music blasted through the speakers.

The music, he had learned, was rather eccentric, though he supposed that was because Sarah personally knew the DJ and had asked them to play certain songs, which so far had consisted of 3OH!3, Hollywood Undead, and a lot of other bands that he didn't know, which for some reason consisted largely of foreign music.

He took another sip of his beer, frowning, and suddenly sensed a presence next to him. He looked up to see the most stereotypical "Party Girl" he had ever seen. The woman was bleach blonde, with too much makeup and a fake tan, and in her short life had had way too many plastic surgeries. She was wearing a miniskirt and a very low cut tank top that revealed too much of her stomach for Zack's liking.

"Hi." Zack said, unsure of what else to say.

"Hey cutie." The blonde replied. "Are you here alone?" she fake pouted.

His rational sense, for inexplicable reasons, told him to lie. "No."

The blonde looked around. "Who are you here with?"

As if on cue, the redhead walked up and jumped into Zack's lap, too drunk to think straight. "Hi, Zacky! "

He raised an eyebrow, wrapping his arms around her waist to keep her from falling. "Are you drunk?"

"Delightfully so." Sarah said happily, her thin arms around his neck as she smiled at him.

Zack looked over at the blonde, who frowned and walked away to another victim. "Okay, I think we should go home."

"No! It's too early!" She protested.

"…Fine."

"_An bhfuil tú damhsa liom?" _She asked, switching languages.

"Sarah, I told you. I don't speak Gaelic."

"I said, would you like to dance with me?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Sarah smiled, then grabbed his hand, jumped off his lap, and dragged him over to the dance floor.

*~*~*

_Later that Night – 11:12 P.M._

"Hodgins?"

"_Why are you calling me so late?"_

"I'm drunk and at a nightclub with the girl who dragged me to the nightclub. I've been here since 6:30. "

"_Where are you?"_

"Club Entropy."

"_Please tell me that you're kidding."_

"I wish I could."

"_Why are you in Bethesda?"_

"Sarah kidnapped me."

"_Sammy's sister kidnapped you and took you to a nightclub in Maryland?"_

"Yes. And I'd really like to go home."

"…_Can't you get a taxi?"_

"Sarah flipped off the taxi driver, so no."

"…_Fine. I'll come get you. Just don't have anymore alcohol."_

"I can't."

"_Good to know. I'll be there in 30 minutes."_

"Thank you."

*~*~*

_11:48 P.M. – Wisconsin Avenue_

"You two are in trouble."

"I know."

"Why did _you _of all people go to a nightclub?"

"I kidnapped him!"

"She did."

"Whatever."

*~*~*

_11:58 P.M._

_Hodgins' Estate_

_Washington D.C._

"You can't go home. You're drunk. You might throw up and suffocate."

"'M not drunk."

"Sarah, you're drunk."

"No I'm not."

"When we were driving home you started singing in Gaulish."

"So?"

"And you asked if we could stop at Wal-Mart because you were out of ammo for your machine guns."

"…So?"

"Then you started speaking Gaelic again to me."

"What'd I say?"

"_Gráím thú."_

"Aww. I love you too!"

"No, Sarah. That's what you said to me!"

"_Táim i ngrá leat."_

"You said that too. I don't know what it means."

"_Tá m'árthach foluaineach lán d'eascainn."_

"I'm assuming that's just drunk babbling because the only part of that I understood was the word hovercraft."

"Hey Zack?"

"Yes?"

"Do you speak Greek?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

*~*~*

_5 Minutes Later_

"_O drakos emipenei na quisiasoume mia kopela alliws qa kayei to cwrio."_

"Did you mean to say that?"

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"You're drunk."

"_Den eisai mequsmenos arkei na mporeis na xaplwseis cwris na kratiesai."_

"How much did you drink?"

"_Ti qa ekanes an se filousa twra."_

"Seeing as we don't know each other all that well, I'm not sure."

Sarah smiled, then walked up to Zack, stumbling slightly, grabbed his jacket and stood on her toes to kiss him. He gently took her hands off his jacket and forced her to step back.

"You're drunk, Sarah. No."

The redhead pouted. "Please?"

"No. Go to sleep."

*~*~*

**A/N: **Drunken randomness is funny. And I've been listening to Ukrainian dance music and Greek rap music for 3 hours now.

The last 4 phrases – the one in Gaelic and the 3 in Greek, are translated as follows.

"My hovercraft is full of eels."

"The dragon insists we sacrifice a maiden otherwise he will burn the village to the ground"

"You are not drunk so long as you can lie on the ground without holding on."

"What would you do if I kissed you right now?"

I was using an online generator for the last one and the first one, for some reason, was among a list of Gaelic phrases that I've been using to translate what I'm saying.

Anyway, review! …Please?


	5. Author's Note

**A/N: To anyone reading Let Love In, Inhumanity, Epsilon, and/or Silhouettes.**

**Due to reasons beyond my understanding, my parents have not only taken away my radio, iPod, TV, cell phone, the majority of my computer time, and anything else technological that they can think of, but today I learned that they blocked every single website on my account. Not only this, but they are also deleting the guest account on the computer. Therefore, until my grades are back to passing (according to my mom, above 95% because I'm "in gifted classes and should apply myself", I will be unable to update anything.**

**It is not my fault. My parents are being douche bags, and do not understand that I am not mentally capable of normal school.**

**I will update as soon as I can, but for now will probably be completely unable to update unless I can go to the library – a highly unlikely event, get a laptop – also very unlikely, or get a hold of either Gabby's, Katie's, or Bruce's computer to write. But seeing as I am pretty much grounded, even this note is really hard to write because they're deleting this account.**

**For now, all my stories are on indefinite hiatus. Y'all have absolutely no idea how mad and upset I am that I'm not being allowed to write. Not only can I not listen to music, but I'm not being allowed to write now, either.**

**I'm extremely, ridiculously sorry. You have no idea how much of a bitch I feel like for doing this, even though it's not my fault.**

**~Sarah**


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